Chapter Text
‘Fuck, he’s here!’ Michael hissed over the comms.
Geoff’s stomach sank, and he immediately stepped out of the bank and started looking for a familiar, dreaded figure. He spotted him just down the block; a man in a black and blue leather jacket, a squat black rifle in his hands and a black skull mask covering his face. He was strolling towards them with all the idle, coiled-muscle intent of a predator.
‘Son of a bitch!’ Geoff fumed. ‘Three heists in a row. Michael, take him out!’
‘On it,’ Michael promised, and Geoff turned his attention back to the bank with fresh urgency, helping Jack and Gavin load bags of money into a van while Jeremy kept everyone’s heads down. They’d been lucky so far, no alarms set off or people trying to be heroes, but the appearance of the mercenary was bound to complicate matters.
The Black Skull had been a solo operator in Los Santos for years, taking jobs with crews whenever it suited him, robbing stores and houses and carrying out flawless assassinations, building a reputation for brutal efficiency in his work.
The Fake AH Crew had never worked with him, but it seemed someone had recently paid him to take an interest in them in the worst kind of way. Either that, or he had finally taken exception to being ignored.
He had been a thorn in the crew’s side for nearly six months; taking pot shots at their vehicles, killing Ray’s bounty targets, disrupting weapons shipments and turning up during carefully planned heists to cause chaos.
They were just loading the last bags into the van when the first rattle of gunfire sounded from outside.
‘Motherfucker! There goes our stealth tactic!’ Jack cursed. If a masked gunman had opened fire in public, there was no way the cops wouldn’t have been called.
‘Take Gav and Jeremy as backup, get the cash out of here,’ Geoff ordered.
‘Got it, Boss,’ Jack said, sliding the side of the van shut with a clang and climbing into the driver’s seat.
‘Michael, what’s going on?’
‘He’s going after Ray!’
Geoff looked down the street to the parking garage where Ray was stationed, overlooking the bank from a distance.
‘Ray, you hear that?’
‘Yeah, I’m listening,’ Ray assured him. ‘Geoff, get off the street, cops are coming!’
Jeremy left the hostages huddled in the bank and jumped into the passenger side of the van next to Gavin, tucking his rifle out of sight between his feet.
As soon as his door was shut, Jack pulled away with a squeal of tires, taking the two lads and their money away from the scene. With any luck, they’d get clear before the cops connected the van to the bank robbery.
Geoff’s own getaway car was a block north, in the opposite direction from the parking garage, but he didn’t want to leave Ray and Michael with the Black Skull.
‘Fuck me,’ he muttered, already regretting his choices, and ran towards the garage.
He could hear gunfire and Michael shouting as he ran, and by the sound of things Michael was chasing the Black Skull up the levels, heading for Ray’s position on the roof.
‘Ray, stay down!’ Michael shouted, and there was a grunt of effort and a smacking sound like two heavy slabs of meat colliding.
‘Ray, what’s happening?’ Geoff gasped out, trying to run faster. He wished he’d gone the other way and brought his car. It might have been quicker in the end.
‘Michael’s wrestling with him. I can’t get a clean shot!’ Ray reported. He drew in a shocked breath. ‘Michael!’
Geoff looked up at the roof just in time to see a figure topple over the railing. They plummeted, flailing madly, and hit the asphalt with a sickening wet crunch.
‘Michael!’ Geoff yelled, horror cracking his voice. He started towards the fallen figure, his steps halting and reluctant, already dreading what he would find.
‘It’s him, Geoff,’ Michael said in his ear, sounding out of breath. ‘I’m okay. Ray’s okay.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Geoff said, sagging with relief, his heart pounding from sudden fear more than the effort of running. ‘You two scared the dicks out of me!’
‘We’re fine,’ Ray promised. ‘I thought Michael was going over the rail too, but I grabbed him.’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ Michael said.
Geoff looked up again, and saw him peering carefully over the railing.
‘Get the fuck off that roof,’ he snapped at them, sharp with fear, turning away to take a shortcut through an alley and loop back to his car. It would be safer than hanging around on the main street when the cops started swarming. ‘Take Ray’s bike and get out of here. God, I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack.’
‘He’s still moving,’ Michael said incredulously. ‘He’s like the fucking Terminator!’
Geoff whipped round, and sure enough the broken man on the ground was moving weakly.
‘Jesus,’ Geoff breathed, feeling slightly sick. ‘You guys go, I’ll take care of him.’
‘Gotcha,’ Ray said, and a few seconds later Geoff heard the roar of a powerful bike starting up above him.
He advanced carefully towards the Black Skull, aware that he might still be dangerous despite his awful injuries. There was bright blood seeping out from under him, flooding the cracks in the asphalt like some macabre river system.
His left arm was bent up and away from his body at a disturbing angle, but as Geoff walked closer the Black Skull raised his right arm to his face and scrabbled at the infamous skull mask.
He was making muffled, high pitched noises, like a dog in pain, and when he managed to pull his mask off, Geoff was shocked by how ordinary the feared mercenary looked. He was just a man, with golden-brown hair pulled back in a loose bun and a slight stubble on his cheeks. There was fresh blood matted in his long hair, and the left side of his head looked horribly misshapen, crushed inwards like a boiled egg cracked with a spoon. When he looked up at Geoff, one of his bright blue eyes was completely bloodshot.
He lay, panting and whining with pain, staring up at the barrel of Geoff’s gun, and it seemed to Geoff that he didn’t understand what was happening. There was no chance that the Black Skull didn’t know who Geoff Ramsey was, but there was no recognition on the man’s face. He just looked confused and afraid, those blue eyes wide and glassy.
Geoff was inescapably reminded of a puppy he’d once seen get hit by a car. The mercenary wore the same look of surprise and confusion at being suddenly broken and in pain. There was nothing threatening in his expression, only a silent plea for help.
Geoff held him at gunpoint for a moment longer, trying to work himself up to pulling the trigger, but the childlike look on the Black Skull’s bloodied face kept holding him back. The man looked innocent, blank, not even afraid of Geoff’s gun.
‘Fuck,’ Geoff breathed at last, and lowered his gun. He pulled out his phone with shaking hands and called the crew’s doctor.
‘Caleb, send an ambulance to the parking garage at 4th and Westlake. No, it’s not one of us. He took a header off the roof, pretty sure his skull is smashed. No, I can’t stay. The cops haven’t come this far south yet, but I can’t stick around. Yeah, I know he might die. Just do your best, okay?’
He ended the call and looked down at the Black Skull. The injured man was blinking slowly, his breathing sounding increasingly fast and shallow. It didn’t seem likely he would live much longer.
‘Someone’s coming to help,’ Geoff promised him, then turned and ran down the alley.
~
‘When you said you’d take care of him, I thought you meant putting a bullet in his head, not literally taking care of him!’ Michael yelled, when Geoff got back to the penthouse and told them all what had happened.
‘I meant to,’ Geoff said, shrinking a little in the face of Michael’s rage. ‘I don’t know, there was just something off about him.’
‘There’s always something off about him,’ Ray pointed out. ‘Motherfucker be cray cray!’
‘Maybe,’ Geoff said, shrugging. ‘But I don’t think you could have looked him in the eye and shot him either.’
‘Uh, that’s literally my job, Geoff,’ Ray pointed out with a wry grin.
Geoff winced at the reminder, too shaken by the day to want to think about their shared history of violence. ‘It was different. I don’t know, we’ll see what happens. Caleb hasn’t called, so maybe he bled out before they got there anyway.’
‘This is bullshit,’ Michael spat. ‘He nearly killed me today. It could have been me landing on my fucking head!’
‘I know, Michael,’ Geoff said quietly. ‘Believe me, I’m incredibly grateful that it wasn’t.’
‘Apparently not grateful enough to finish the fucking job!’ Michael yelled. ‘This isn’t some bullshit fairytale, Geoff. If he lives, he’s still gonna be a problem. Next time, we might not get so lucky!
He drained his beer, hurled the empty bottle against the far wall with a shattering crash and stormed out, letting the door bang shut behind him.
‘Michael!’ Geoff called after him, but it wasn’t the commanding voice of the crew’s leader. It was too pleading for that, and Michael didn’t return.
After a moment of shocked silence, Jeremy got up and started carefully collecting pieces of broken glass. He spent too much time barefoot to want to leave it lying around, and there was no way Michael would be back any time soon.
‘I respect the urge to show mercy, Geoff,’ Jack said, over the quiet clink of Jeremy’s movements. ‘But perhaps this wasn’t the best time.’
‘I know. I can’t explain it,’ Geoff said, burying his head in his hands. ‘God, I don’t know whether to hope he dies or hope Caleb saves him so at least Michael’s pissed off for a reason!’
‘I think it was sweet, Geoffrey,’ Gavin said, peeling the label off his beer and looking satisfied when it came off in one piece. ‘Kings are meant to be merciful, aren’t they? Maybe he’ll leave us alone after this.’
‘All we can do is wait and see,’ Jack said sagely. ‘Let me know when Caleb calls you.’
~
Caleb didn’t call until the following afternoon, when they woke Geoff from a deep and rather hungover sleep. The usual post-heist drinks had taken on a more desperate aspect of “drinking to forget that Michael is mad at me, and also that I saw a guy get completely fucked up by falling off a roof”, and Geoff had definitely overdone it.
‘Ramsey,’ he croaked out, cracking an eye open just enough to see who was calling and then immediately closing it against the cruel glare of his phone.
‘He’s still alive,’ Caleb reported. ‘Though I have to say I wasn’t expecting you to call me in to help the goddamn Black Skull. I wasn’t aware that he was an ally of yours.’
‘He’s not,’ Geoff rasped. ‘It’s complicated. How bad is he?’
Caleb sighed. ‘Left shoulder and elbow dislocated. Left collarbone broken. Left arm broken in four places, and now held together with pins. Five ribs broken on the left side, now wired back into place. Left lung punctured. Severely bruised organs,’ they rattled off, impassive as only a surgeon could manage. ‘God only knows how his spine is intact. Honestly though, it’s all child’s play compared to the massive head trauma. I spent hours trying to piece his skull back together, and in the end I took a good chunk of it out completely. His brain is swollen as hell, so at least the open section gives it a bit more space. If he lives long enough for the swelling to settle down I can put a titanium plate in to replace the bone.’
‘How likely is that?’
Caleb hummed. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ they said frankly. ‘There’s a reason people jump off parking garages to commit suicide, Geoff.’
‘God, what a mess,’ Geoff said, rolling onto his back and throwing a hand over his eyes as though it could stop the instant memory replay of watching the man fall.
‘If the swelling in his brain responds to treatment, he’s got a chance,’ Caleb said. ‘Everything else is stable, but brains are tricky.’
Geoff snorted. ‘Is that the official medical term?’
‘Might as well be,’ Caleb said with a chuckle.
‘Call me if he dies or wakes up,’ Geoff ordered.
‘I’ll keep you informed, one way or the other,’ Caleb agreed, and hung up.
~
The penthouse was still mostly deserted by the time Geoff had dragged himself out of bed, half-drowned himself in the shower and stumbled out of his room in search of coffee. Only the noise of the TV stopped the open living space from being genuinely eerie.
Ray was curled up on the couch, kicking the everloving hell out of wave upon wave of zombies, and Geoff collapsed into his armchair and blearily watched for a while, marvelling at Ray’s ability to somehow be deadlier in games than he was in real life.
‘Where is everyone?’ Geoff asked, when the mug of strong black coffee had worked its magic.
‘Jeremy and Gavin went to the pier for cotton candy. Jack is at the range. Michael hasn’t come back since last night,’ Ray reported easily, used to Geoff’s need to keep a headcount. ‘He texted earlier to say he’d gone to stay at the desert safehouse, and I quote, “until Geoff’s done playing Happy fucking Families with the enemy.” So yeah, he’s pissed.’
Geoff rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘Fucking wonderful.’
He let Ray keep playing without distractions until the zombies finally overwhelmed his character, then spoke again.
‘You get why I did it, right?’ he asked, hoping that at least someone understood.
Ray left the game on the death screen and turned slightly towards him. ‘Maybe?’ he began, which in Geoff’s opinion wasn’t the most reassuring start. ‘Have I ever done something logically dumb because I had a gut feeling it was right? Sure. We all know instincts matter. But would I have shot the Black Skull in the face while he was down? Yeah, almost certainly. I don’t know why, but the guy’s been a severe pain in the ass lately,’ Ray said. ‘I get why Michael’s angry, too. You didn’t see them fighting.’
‘The Skull is a powerful guy,’ Geoff agreed.
‘Yeah,’ Ray said quietly. ‘For a moment, I thought Michael was gonna lose.’
Geoff flinched at that. Michael didn’t lose. He was smaller than a lot of his opponents, but he had such a depth of determination and sheer “fuck you” anger that he tended to overwhelm anyone he had to face hand to hand. Nearly getting thrown of the roof must have shaken him severely.
‘Should I go after him?’ Geoff asked Ray.
The pair had known each other far longer than they had been in the crew, and no one understood Michael better.
Ray shrugged. ‘Probably not? I’d at least wait a couple of days. That way Michael can cool off, and you can see what the Skull has to say when he wakes up. If he’ll promise to make a truce, or pay you back somehow, Michael might be a bit happier.’
‘I guess so,’ Geoff said, but it still didn’t sit well. He never liked having one of his boys storm off alone. They had too many enemies.
~
The Skull hadn’t woken up after two days. He hadn’t woken after six days, when Michael finally relented and returned to the penthouse.
‘This doesn’t mean I’m not pissed at you,’ he declared, when Geoff looked delighted to see him. ‘It’s just fucking boring out in the desert on my own.’
‘Got it,’ Geoff assured him, and despite his own regret he continued to give Michael as much space as possible while sharing an apartment with him. The penthouse was enormous, but there were still inevitably moments when they ran into each other in the kitchen or the living room.
Caleb reported in via text every couple of days, telling Geoff that the Skull was still in much the same comatose state, but that his brain was slowly starting to return to normal size.
Geoff went back to work and tried to put the injured man out of his thoughts. It would be a long while before the crew targeted a bank again, but with their new funds in hand there was plenty of other work to do.
He went out to Sandy Shores several times over the next three weeks to meet with Matt about the aircraft hanger he was building for them, a work of architectural genius that looked like a decrepit barn from the outside, but actually hid a multi-level hanger with mechanised aircraft storage and retrieval. It was an incredibly expensive project, and Geoff might have been tempted to ask Matt to design something simpler, if not for the way Jack lit up every time it was mentioned.
He was on the coastal highway, racing the setting sun on his way home from one such meeting when his phone rang, Caleb’s name flashing on the screen.
‘I’m guessing something’s changed, if you’re bothering to actually call me,’ he said when the call connected.
‘Good evening to you too,’ Caleb said snippily. ‘Yes, your friend is awake, and relatively lucid. You might want to come and talk to him in person.’
There was something odd about Caleb’s tone, and Geoff frowned at the road.
‘Why’s that?’ he asked.
‘Well, he doesn’t know who he is, or where he is, or what happened,’ Caleb replied.
‘Isn’t that normal? He’s got to be pretty drugged up.’
‘I know what people are like on drugs, Geoff,’ Caleb said, sounding exasperated. ‘This isn’t like that. He literally knows nothing. Not what year it is, or the president’s name, or his own name. He failed every memory test I gave him.’
‘Fuck,’ Geoff said, suddenly wishing he wasn’t driving so he could pour himself a drink.
‘He’s quite sweet, actually,’ Caleb said. ‘The language skills are there, but the world knowledge isn’t. He’s just sort of blank, and nice.’
‘Nice?’ Geoff repeated disbelievingly.
‘Come and talk to him,’ Caleb repeated. ‘He lived, so congratulations, your little act of mercy has consequences. You need to work out what you’re going to do with him.’
‘I’ll be there tomorrow,’ Geoff promised.
~
As requested, he told Jack about Caleb’s call as soon as he got home.
In the morning, she went with him to the hospital, insisting on driving. Geoff had been twitchy and rattled all night, so he conceded without much argument. The last thing he needed was to put himself and Jack in the hospital as well.
Steffie met them in the bare entrance hall of the clinic.
‘Caleb is in surgery right now,’ she told them. ‘I’ll take you to your friend.’
‘He must have questions,’ Jack said. ‘What have you told him?’
‘We told him he fell off a roof, that’s all,’ Steffie said. ‘Caleb doesn’t think he remembers anything, so why would we tell him he’s dangerous? That would be super dumb.’
‘Smart choice,’ Jack agreed.
Steffie led them to a private room at the end of a quiet corridor, knocking once before she pushed open the door.
‘I’ve brought a couple of friends to see you,’ she chirped.
Jack and Geoff followed her in, and found the Black Skull propped up in a wide hospital bed, surrounded by monitors. There was a small television mounted on the opposite wall where he could see it, but the room was otherwise barren and clinical.
His golden hair was gone, shaved away for surgery, and the dome of his head was swathed in white bandages. His left arm was plastered and bound tightly against his chest, his fingers just peeking over the top of the pale green blanket. The blood had receded from his eye, leaving both eyes sparkling blue and clear, and when Geoff met his gaze, he looked confused, but pleased to see them.
‘Um, hi?’ he said, raising his right hand in an awkward little wave.
‘Hey, how’re you feeling?’ Jack asked, apparently willing to treat him as though he really was a friend until they had evidence otherwise.
Geoff stood at the end of the bed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to cross his arms and scowl. This was not at all the conversation he had expected to have when the Skull woke up.
‘I feel pretty good,’ the Skull said, smiling openly at Jack. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t remember. Who are you?’
There was a hint of a southern drawl in his voice, and his face was clear and guileless. He looked soft, somehow, and it made Geoff feel oddly guilty, as though his very presence was a corrupting influence. He hadn’t looked like a vicious mercenary when he was lying injured on the ground, and he definitely didn’t look like one now. Caleb was right – he looked cheerfully blank.
‘I’m Jack, and that’s Geoff,’ Jack said, without giving any explanation of who they actually were. ‘We heard you were awake, so we just wanted to come and visit.’
‘Thanks!’ the man said, smiling widely. ‘I’m told I got pretty lucky.’
‘Do you need anything?’ Geoff asked, forcing himself out of his frozen state. He couldn’t just stare at the guy all day.
‘Uh, I don’t really know?’ the man said slowly. ‘Do I have family I should call? Are you family?’
‘No, we’re not, we’re just the ones who found you,’ Jack said. ‘I can’t tell you anything about family, I’m sorry. If there is anyone looking for you, I’m sure they’ll call the hospital.’
The Skull seemed to accept her words at face value, and it suddenly struck Geoff that if he really didn’t remember anything, someone was going to have to construct an entire life history for the man.
‘Okay,’ the Skull said brightly. ‘I just don’t want anyone to worry.’
‘What about something to do? Are you bored?’ Jack asked.
‘Steffie put the TV on for me earlier,’ Skull said. ‘It was a show about coral reefs, which was interesting, but I’m going to be here a long time, aren’t I? Maybe a book would be nice?’
‘Do you remember how to read?’ Geoff asked.
‘Yes,’ the man said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Geoff supposed that with so much missing, everything he did retain must feel like a victory.
‘Okay, what kind of books do you like?’
The man’s smile slipped a little. ‘I... I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t worry about it,’ Jack said. ‘We’ll bring you a bunch of stuff, you can see what you like.’
‘What about food?’ Geoff asked. Whenever one of the crew was laid up with an injury, bringing in their favourite foods was his primary way of helping them feel better. ‘He can eat, right?’ he asked the tiny nurse.
Steffie nodded. ‘Soft or liquid food only, nothing chewy, but yes.’
‘I’m getting meals,’ the Skull said. ‘I don’t have much appetite, so I don’t need any other food, thanks.’
‘Jesus, you really don’t remember things,’ Geoff blurted, and then felt like an asshole when the man looked at him in confusion. ‘Sorry, uh, hospital food, it’s kind of a cliché that it’s bad. Never mind,’ he said, waving his own joke aside awkwardly. ‘Anyway, we probably shouldn’t tire you out. We’ll come back later today or tomorrow with some books and stuff, okay?’
‘Okay?’ the Skull said, with a slightly perplexed little smile.
‘Get some rest,’ Jack said, smiling back at him.
Geoff managed a vague grimace, then walked out as quickly as he could, beckoning Steffie to follow.
The moment the door was closed behind them he shuddered. There was something eerie about an enemy looking at him so calmly, hostility replaced with friendly blankness, and it was doubly weird that the man commonly dubbed the Mad Mercenary seemed so harmless and nice.
‘God, that’s creepy,’ he said.
‘If he’s faking he’s doing a very good job of it,’ Jack said. ‘He seems like a sweet southern boy.’
‘Yeah, I caught the accent too,’ Geoff agreed. Turning to Steffie, he asked, ‘What do you think? Ever dealt with memory loss before?’
Steffie shook her head. ‘I’ve treated people with post-traumatic amnesia, where they forget bits and pieces of the time after an accident, but nothing like this. If you want to know if he’s faking, I can’t honestly say for sure, but I really doubt it. It would take a hell of an actor to start up this performance before he was even properly lucid.’
Geoff frowned. He hadn’t got to where he was by trusting indiscriminately, and the Black Skull was notoriously clever. He might have decided that faking memory loss until his other injuries healed was the smartest move.
‘I guess we go with it for now,’ he decided. ‘He seems legit, but I want you and Caleb to keep an eye on him. One hint that he’s still dangerous, or that he’s faking the memory loss, and you call me. Don’t take any risks with this guy.’
‘I’m familiar with his reputation,’ Steffie assured him.
Jack lingered a moment longer to ask Steffie about the man’s prognosis, but Geoff was more than ready to leave. He walked out of the hospital and felt a weight lift off his chest as soon as he was standing on the sun-parched sidewalk. He hadn’t been prepared for the swooping, guilty feeling of seeing the Skull again, or the disconnect of feeling like the man ought to be a threat despite how harmless he seemed, and it had shaken him badly.
Jack emerged while he was still staring out across the quiet street, taking deep breaths of hot, city-stale air.
‘You okay?’ she asked, eyeing Geoff all too knowingly.
‘Fine,’ Geoff said, then cleared his throat and shook himself. ‘Let’s go find a bookstore, I guess.’
Jack stared at him, seeing through his bullshit like she always did, but when he walked towards the car she huffed and followed, apparently deciding not to push the issue yet.
~
‘Why are there so many fucking creepy, unrealistic crime books?’ Geoff demanded, an hour later. They were deep in the bowels of one of Los Santos’ few remaining brick-and-mortar bookstores, trying to work out what to get for a man who didn’t have a clue what he would like to read.
Crime novels were obviously out, as was anything too horrific or too heavily based in pop-culture. There was no way of knowing what movies or events the Skull might remember, and Geoff felt kind of bad at the idea of confusing him.
‘And how am I supposed to know if some smart-ass author is gonna put in a Han Shot First joke at random and leave the guy totally fucking perplexed?’ Geoff demanded, shoving a book of lighthearted traveling stories back on an overstuffed shelf.
‘Or mention JFK, or the moon landing, or some shit like that,’ Jack agreed.
Geoff groaned and buried his head in his hands. ‘He doesn’t know about the moon landing, Jack,’ he said, pained by the sheer enormity of the memories the Skull had apparently lost. ‘What the fuck do we give him?’
‘Something totally separate from reality would seem smart, right? Fantasy stories, so long as he knows they’re not set in real places.’
‘Oh, great idea, you can be the one to explain to him that magic isn’t real, have fun dashing that dream,’ Geoff pointed out.
Jack winced. ‘Right. Jesus, this is dumb.’
‘Are kids educational books too insulting?’ Geoff pondered.
‘I... Fuck, Geoff, I really don’t know. Why don’t we just have Gav load up a tablet? He can use wikipedia for real world stuff, and search for whatever books he decides he wants.’
Geoff froze with his hands full of middle-school textbooks. ‘You’re a fucking genius,’ he declared. ‘Why didn’t you say that an hour ago?’
‘Genius takes time,’ Jack said sagely, dumping her armload of adventure stories on a nearby table and heading for the door.
~
It took Gavin a matter of a few minutes to load a new tablet with some learning software, a web browser and a kindle app, and Geoff took him to the hospital that afternoon to deliver it.
‘He’s not all gross and squished up, is he?’ Gavin asked, fidgeting in his seat as they drove. Despite their criminal pursuits, Gavin still wasn’t good at gore, staying away from the front-line violence much of the time.
‘No, he looks better than I expected,’ Geoff assured him. ‘I mean, yeah, he’s obviously hurt, but it’s all hidden under bandages. He looks normal.’
Gavin nodded firmly to himself. ‘Like a real person,’ he mused.
‘Fucking hell, Gav,’ Geoff said, rolling his eyes. ‘If you’re gonna be like that you can stay in the car.’
‘But he’s got no memories!’ Gavin insisted. ‘If I’ve got no memory of being me, I’m not me anymore, am I? I wouldn’t be real-Gavin!’
‘You’d still be a real person though!’ Geoff argued. ‘Not being real-Gavin doesn’t mean not being a person!’
‘But who would I be, then?’ Gavin demanded.
‘I don’t know!’ Geoff half yelled. ‘Just don’t say shit like that to him, okay? He’s probably confused enough without some fucking moron giving him an existential crisis!’
Gavin huffed and folded his arms defensively, but he stayed quiet after that.
Geoff kept driving, trying to ignore the fact that Gavin’s sideways way of thinking had raised a very disquieting issue. If the man truly had no memory of being the Black Skull, was he still the same person?
~
The hospital room hadn’t changed at all in their brief absence. It was almost depressing to see the same monitors and drip bags in exactly the same places as before, without a single personal item as a sign of life, or any gifts to show that someone cared for the patient. Geoff had no idea whether the Skull would have had friends, or even family. He’d never particularly considered the man outside of his work before, but he almost hoped that there hadn’t been anyone who would miss him.
‘Hi,’ Skull said, smiling brightly when he saw Geoff. There was obvious recognition in his eyes, and Geoff was relieved to see that he seemed capable of remembering new things, even if the old memories were lost.
‘Hey, I said I’d be back,’ Geoff said forcing a slightly awkward smile and ushering Gavin forward as the young man tried to lurk in the doorway. ‘This is my friend Gavin. He’s got a tablet for you so you can look for books and stuff.’
The Skull looked interested, even eager, and Geoff wondered how bored he was already, stuck in the blank room without even memories to keep him busy.
‘Alright?’ Gavin asked, nodding at the patient, then cleared his throat and held out the tablet. ‘I can show you how it works if you’ve got a minute.’
‘I’m pretty sure I’m not going anywhere,’ Skull said, with a slightly sad smile.
Geoff shivered convulsively, and made himself sit down in one of the chairs against the wall rather than fleeing the room.
Gavin stepped up next to the bed and handed over the tablet.
The man handled the weighty pane of black glass as though it would shatter with a thought, and it took several minutes of Gavin poking at it, taking him through the various apps for books and music and games, for him to gain the confidence to rest it in his lap and use his unbroken hand to swipe around.
‘This is for languages,’ Gavin said, opening up a Rosetta app. ‘I don’t know if you know any other languages, but maybe it’ll be fun to learn some.
‘I think I do, maybe?’ The Skull said, frowning. ‘How do I know what language I’m thinking?’
Gavin’s eyes went wide at hearing a question so similar to his own weird thoughts. Geoff stifled a laugh – of course it took someone with a head injury to get on Gavin’s level.
‘I dunno, it’s all just words to you, innit? Maybe if you look at some of the lessons and see what you know, you’ll know which languages you’ve already learned. The lessons can talk as well, so you know how the words should sound.’
‘Do you speak other languages?’
‘I speak Italian,’ Gavin admitted, to Geoff’s surprise. Gavin didn’t talk much about his true identity to anyone outside the crew. It seemed that the Skull’s sweet nature was disarming him already.
‘Is that where you’re from? You sound a bit different to the other people I’ve spoken to.’
Gavin laughed, then caught himself. ‘God, sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you. No, my family came from Italy, but I’m from England.’
The skull sat silently for a moment, his brow furrowed, and Geoff felt his chest twist in sympathy.
‘Where’s Italy?’ the man asked quietly. ‘Are Italy and England very different?’
Gavin looked blank for a second, his mouth hanging open at the reminder of just how much the man didn’t know.
‘Yes, they’re different,’ Geoff put in when the pause had stretched too long. ‘Gav, show him how to search stuff.’
‘Right,’ Gavin said, nodding. ‘This is the internet. The page it opens up to is called Google. You type words or questions into the bar here and it searches for answers from all over the world. It can tell you almost anything, but some of the answers aren’t correct.’
‘It tells me wrong things?’
‘Yeah, it tells you whatever people have said, and some of them are wrong,’ Gavin said. ‘But there’s this site called wikipedia – I put in an app that’ll take you straight there – and the answers there are usually right. If you want to know something, try wikipedia first, or ask us.’
‘Are you going to be here lots?’ the man asked, looking hopefully at Geoff.
Geoff sighed. Those bright blue eyes ought to be classified as a lethal weapon.
‘Yeah, I guess we will. Maybe some of my other friends too. We want to make sure you’re going to be okay.’
‘Thanks, Geoff,’ the man said, smiling gratefully at him. ‘I know Steffie is busy, so I don’t want to bother her, but it’s so quiet.’
‘The tablet will help with that,’ Geoff said. ‘We can’t be here all the time, we have work to do.’
‘But we’ll come when we can,’ Gavin promised, as soon as the man’s face started to fall. God, he really was like a sweet-natured puppy. No one wanted to see him upset.
‘Yeah, and I’ll bring some food next time,’ Geoff said, feeling oddly moved to reassure him. ‘There have to be things you’ll like better than hospital food. You can figure out what you like.’
‘That sounds fun,’ the Skull said, with another bright smile.
‘You can work out what music you like, too,’ Gavin said, tapping the tablet to open up the music app again. Through the power of the internet, and the credit card Gavin had tied to the app, the Skull had access to basically the entire history of music. Geoff couldn’t imagine having all that laid out at his fingertips and no idea where to start.
‘You should be pretty set with the tablet. If it breaks, don’t panic, I can fix it. The last thing is, it’s got a good battery, but it’ll run out of power if you use it all the time. Just charge it up again. I’ll plug this in over here,’ Gavin said, shoving the charger into one of the wall sockets. ‘And tuck the end through the side of your bed so you can reach it to plug it in.’
Gavin stuck the cable into the slot to demonstrate, and the Skull jumped slightly as the screen brightened. He hissed with pain as the motion jostled his injuries, and Geoff was on his feet before he thought about it.
‘Hey, easy,’ he said, grabbing the nurse call button on the side of the bed and pushing it. ‘Just relax. What hurts?’
The man settled against his pillows and hissed again. ‘Mostly my ribs. Sometimes I breathe too much and they hurt then as well.’
Gavin winced in sympathy. ‘Yeah, I’ve broken ribs before. They’re a right bastard.’
‘How did you break yours? Did you fall too?’
‘Ah, no,’ Gavin said, and paused awkwardly. ‘I... had a different sort of accident.’
Geoff snorted. Getting his ribs caved in with a pool cue during a bar fight couldn't exactly be described as an accident, but it hardly seemed wise to start talking about their lives of crime.
Steffie arrived quickly, and immediately fiddled with the dispenser to give the man another dose of painkillers.
‘Let me know when it hurts,’ she chided him. ‘You don’t have to be in pain.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the Skull said, looking sheepish, and Geoff put his face in his hands.
The man was apologising for being in pain! What kind of person even did that? With his layers of violence and mystery stripped away, the Black Skull was kind of a dork, and it reminded Geoff uncomfortably of the difference between his crew at goofing around at home and their steely professionalism at work.
Gavin seemed to have taken a liking to him immediately, happily settling in a chair beside him and showing the Skull pictures of England and Italy, telling him about their differences.
The Skull listened with interest, but his head began to nod after only a few minutes, the painkillers taking their toll.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sleepy,’ he said, with an apologetic little smile, and Gavin chuckled fondly.
‘Yeah, painkillers will do that, don’t worry about it.’
‘We’ll leave you to sleep,’ Geoff said, getting to his feet. ‘One of us will come by tomorrow, okay?’
He wasn’t sure when he’d resolved to actually spend time with the man, but even with the tablet to keep him occupied it was hard to contemplate leaving him alone in the barren little room. Somehow, not killing the Skull had led to feeling far more guilty than he would have if he’d pulled the trigger.
Why did he have to be so fucking nice? Geoff wondered, as Gavin said his own goodbyes.
~
Caleb texted the following morning warning that the Skull was undergoing further tests, so there would be no point in anyone visiting until later.
Geoff took the chance to get some actual work done instead, cruising the beach-front bars during their off hours to talk to the owners who paid protection to the Fake. A lot of people forgot to keep their mouths shut when they’d had a few, and a keen-eared bartender was often a valuable informer.
The Black Skull’s absence had been noted, and Geoff laughed along with a slew of bizarre rumours surrounding his disappearance. The leading story said that he’d died, hardly unlikely for a mercenary in Los Santos, but others claimed he was too dangerous to die, and he’d been hired by the government to assassinate the President of Russia, or that he’d headed down to Mexico to start a private war against the cartels after using some bad peyote.
Geoff considered proclaiming that the Skull was dead, and that the Fake had killed him, but though it would undoubtedly increase their reputation, the man must have had allies. Claiming to have put him down might only start trouble the crew didn’t want to deal with. In the end, Geoff kept his mouth shut.
He learned that the Lost MC were fighting among themselves again, three potential leaders all jockeying for power and influence within the crew, and made a mental note to watch out for increased activity in the north of the city. When leadership struggles broke out, there were always people looking to prove their importance by pulling something big.
Geoff grabbed a late lunch from a hotdog stand on the beach, and found himself wolfing it down, anxious to get to the hospital and talk to Caleb. Further tests could have meant anything, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was more worried about the Skull getting his memories back or the sweet man he had just met suddenly getting sicker.
~
Caleb must have seen his car coming. They beckoned him into an empty exam room as soon as he walked into the clinic.
‘What happened? Did he get worse?’ Geoff asked. ‘Or did he do something that made you think he’s faking it all?’
Caleb shook their head at once. ‘Neither, but I was concerned about the possibility of him faking it. He could have been a danger to all my staff. I wanted to be sure, so this morning I did a PET scan and asked him questions. I told him about the gangs of Los Santos, asked about assassinations and robberies which were known to be Black Skull’s work, and there was no brain activity related to memory. He doesn’t remember a damn thing. He got quite upset about some of the things I was saying, actually. I’m one hundred per cent sure he’s got no memory of who he was.’
‘Jesus,’ Geoff said, rasping a hand over his stubbled chin. It was a relief to be sure that their enemy wasn’t going to suddenly rise out of his hospital bed and stab them with a used hypodermic, but it was almost sad to have that confirmation. It felt like Caleb was announcing a time of death.
‘What do we do with him?’
‘That’s your call, Geoff,’ Caleb said at once. ‘You’re paying for his treatment. You chose not to kill him.’
‘But we did, didn’t we?’ Geoff murmured. ‘He’s not the Skull anymore.’
Caleb hesitated. ‘There’s some debate over what makes a person,’ they said slowly. ‘But I suppose if we want to define someone as the sum of their memories and experiences, then yes, you did kill him. The Black Skull is gone. He’s a totally different man now.’
Caleb waited patiently as Geoff considered that, mulling over the right course of action.
If he killed the man now, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d killed an innocent bystander, but there was something about the cold calculation of murdering a man in a hospital bed that turned his stomach. Geoff hadn’t even been able to kill him in the heat of the moment, moved to pity by the bewildered fear in his eyes.
The Black Skull was gone, and there was no reason to lay his crimes on a sweet man who knew nothing of them.
‘Alright,’ Geoff said at last, squaring his shoulders. ‘I’m going to get the crew together, and you need to help me explain this.’
It only took a moment to send a group text, but it was nearly two hours before all of them had finished what they were doing and got to the clinic.
Jeremy had the faint outline of boxing wraps on his hands, and his hair was wet, fresh from the hasty shower he had taken when Geoff summoned him. Ray stank of cordite when he arrived, and Geoff wasn’t sure if he’d been at the range or out on a private hit. He kept his side jobs closely under wraps, and so long as he didn’t go after their allies Geoff didn’t really care. Jack walked in with the faint imprint of an aviation headset around her ears, and she kept trying, unsuccessfully, to fix her wind-swept hair.
Michael and Gavin’s former whereabouts were a mystery, but given that Gavin had responded for both of them, and they had arrived in Michael’s car, it was a safe bet that they had been out causing trouble together. Michael looked stormy-faced and annoyed to have been interrupted.
Geoff and Caleb gathered them all together in the exam room, and Geoff tried to explain their course of action.
‘So, a couple of you have spoken to our former opponent since he woke up,’ he began. ‘It’s pretty clear that he’s not acting the same way anymore, and Caleb has confirmed that he isn’t faking. He genuinely has no memory of being the Black Skull. He doesn’t know anything about Los Santos, or gangs, or murder.’
‘So what?’ Ray asked, shrugging.
‘So if he doesn’t remember anything, so he isn’t our enemy,’ Geoff declared. ‘None of you are to tell him anything about the Black Skull, or do anything to try and make him remember. Treat him like a harmless stranger, or a new friend. He seems like a nice guy. He’ll stay here until he’s well, and then we’ll have Kdin forge him some documents, give him a fresh start.’
‘You seriously expect us to play nice with him?’ Michael said, scowling. ‘The Skull’s tried to kill us a thousand fucking times!’
‘Yes, but in the end we killed him,’ Geoff snapped. ‘The man in that room isn’t the Black Skull. He’s an innocent.’
‘But he does remember how to eat and read and stuff,’ Gavin pointed out, looking confused and fascinated. ‘How can he do that with no memory at all?’
‘Caleb?’ Geoff said, turning to the doctor for an explanation.
‘Procedural memory, knowing how to do things, isn’t the same as declarative memory, which is remembering facts and events,’ Caleb explained. ‘Procedural memories use the cerebellum, here,’ they said, touching the front of their head.
‘Obviously, now the swelling has gone down, that part of his brain is fine. But declarative memory is all based around the hippocampus and the medial temporal lobe, deep inside here,’ they said, touching the left side of their head above their ear. ‘That’s the part of his skull that was crushed when he fell, so it’s hardly surprising that there’s significant damage to his memory.’
‘So he’s functional, but he doesn’t remember who he is?’ Jack said, looking mildly horrified.
‘Yes. He’s more or less a blank slate.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Ray said. ‘That’s messed up.’
‘Perhaps,’ Caleb said, shrugging. ‘But it’s a good deal less final than being dead, so there’s that. It might be the only way a murderer like him could be truly rehabilitated.’
‘That’s not our job,’ Michael snapped. ‘We are murderers.’
‘In this case, we aren’t,’ Geoff commanded. ‘If you don’t like it, stay away. Anyone who wants to talk to him is under orders to be nice, got it?’
There was a ragged chorus of agreement, some of them sounding much more grudging about it than others. Michael in particular did not look pleased. As soon as it was clear that Geoff wasn’t going to say anything further, he turned on his heel and left, not looking back.
Geoff watched him go, lips drawn into a tight line of worry. Michael had pushed the Skull off the roof, had nearly fallen himself, and it was hardly surprising that he was having trouble adjusting to seeing the man as anything but a deadly enemy. Geoff could only hope he would come around.